Been awhile, hasn't it?
Over a year, actually. Dunno If anyone is still reading this, but...
I miss R/Hr. I am equally thrilled to see their romance come to life onscreen next month and dreading the series coming to a close. Oh HP universe, only you could make me wait 7 books for one measly kiss…how I shall miss you…Sigh, at least I still have fanfiction.
Let's try this again, shall we?
HARRY POTTER AND THE GOBLET OF FIRE
"I can't come with you," said Hermione, now blushing, "because I'm already going with someone."
"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"
"Oh did I?" said Hermione, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"
She couldn't believe she actually said it.
Well, that wasn't quite accurate. Of course she believed it. She had heard herself say the words loud and clear, and she wasn't a hallucinating kind of girl. She said loads of things to Ron, he pulled so many idiotic stunts and spit forth such inconsiderate statements that barely a day went by that she didn't have to speak up and correct his invalid point of view. But still, even though she did call Ron out on his antics almost constantly, these words, in this context…this was different. This was a turning point, she was almost certain. This was something that had hung in the air between them ever since she had told him he had dirt on his face in that stuffy train compartment (quite boyish of him, she had noticed even then). This was what drew the line in their friendship, what meant that they would never have quite the same relationship as he and Harry did.
Sex. Her sex, in particular, the fairer one. One that he tried to pretend she didn't belong to, and she had tried to ignore as well. Androgyny just made things less…complicated.
But not anymore.
She didn't regret her words though, not in the very least. It was the truth, and such information was bound to come out at some point or another. After all, you didn't have to be top of the class to notice a few anatomical differences between her and her constant companions. Her chest might not be much, but for heaven's sake it was more than what Harry had! Not that she wanted anyone looking at her chest or anything, but...err, well it was just an example. Something most people would quickly categorize as a feminine characteristic. But some people didn't, obviously. People who, let's say, weren't quite at the top of the class. In the past, the fact that Ronald Weasley saw her as nothing more than a walking, talking textbook had left her both sobbing and smoldering for hours in turn, but now that she had voiced her opinion…she couldn't believe she actually said it.
It felt amazing.
The feeling buoyed her up as she made her way back to the girls' dormitories, putting a particularly girlish spring in her step. Now that things were out in the open…might as well go all out, right? She smiled, replaying the scenario in her mind with a vengeance. It was almost as though she could see the empowering words as they flew from her mouth, lit up like fiery little arrows of truth whilst they launched their attack on Ron. She imagined them lodging in his head, sparking on the dried tinder of his underused brain and working their way into a slow blaze through his subconscious. When the flames grew high enough and the smoke thick enough to cloud his vision, the result was a stunned look of recognition spreading across his freckled face that he failed miserably at disguising as confusion. The words had left a delicious little tingle on her tongue, and feeling emboldened she slid it seductively across her teeth, ducking her head in embarrassment at the bold gesture while simultaneously revealing in the freedom it brought. Glancing around the empty corridor around her and spotting no one, she lifted her head and repeated the action, smiling.
What would Ron think if he could see her now?
The thought, edged with scared little girl logic of the sharpest kind, pricked a hole in her newfound bravado instantly. She felt her borrowed sense of confidence give a wheeze of defeat as it deflated through the puncture. Attempting naivety, she asked herself where that kind of idea had come from, but the question, if she had voiced it aloud, would have fooled no one. She knew the answer all too well, and had for longer than she cared to admit. Though she tried her best to hide the unwelcome knowledge behind books and parchment and trivial facts (all of which fit much more neatly into her world) she found it was of no use. Thinking of him, only him, always him, had become a habit by now. One, unfortunately, that she had groomed quite well in the past four years or so. She didn't like it one bit, and she tried her best to fight the tendency, but still he popped up in the back of her mind at the most inopportune of circumstances. Harry's voice chided at her sometimes as well, but much less often and in a way that affected her quite differently. She tried not to dwell on it.
Because…because well why should she? She meant every word she had said. Ron couldn't keep treating her like some annoying little sister he kept around out of pity and expect her to stay within arms reach whenever he needed her. Because when did he ever need her anyway? To help him with (or, to put it more accurately, let him copy) his homework? To back him up when he said something remarkable stupid in a completely inappropriate situation? To provide him with a female form at the ball with when all other girls with half a brain had run shrieking in the opposite direction? Ha! If that was how she needed her then he would just have to learn how to memorize his own charms and watch his own mouth and dance with…(she shuddered, involuntarily, and did not complete the thought). It wasn't as if she needed…him…
Really, Viktor was rather nice, once one got to know him. She felt poorly for the unkind remarks she had made about him earlier, but that was when the only contact they had had was when she had caught him glaring at her from across the Great Hall. At the time, she had thought that he was using his blatant stare as a means of trying to intimidate her because of her friendship with Harry, but as it turned out he just wasn't too subtle with his attention. He found her in the library a few nights ago, and…he had told her…well, he had told her she was pretty, alright! She was a girl, this much had been established, and girls did like to hear that every once in awhile, didn't they! She was allowed that much, wasn't she! Just because certain people where painfully unaware of this fact didn't make it any less true, and she couldn't help it if his words were a smidge hard to distinguish, because after he repeated himself the third or fourth time she was sure that was what he said. He was sweet (Viktor, of course), and when he asked her to the ball she couldn't very well likely say no, could she? She didn't have any reason to reject his offer, she didn't have any other options for the night, did she? No…no, she didn't.
But she would be lying if she said that there wasn't the slightest bit of hesitation in her acceptance.
Luckily, Viktor didn't seem to notice. He was sweet…but not the most perceptive guy out there. She was kind of used to that at this point though.
She had reached the Fat Lady now, and shook her head to clear her thoughts. It did little to help, but with everything racing around inside her brain she hadn't really expected it to. Absentmindedly she muttered the password, feeling frustrated with her own moodiness and determined to snap out of it. The tingle in her tongue was gone, but she tried her best to get that spring back in her step as she entered the Gryffindor common room. It was only a few moments ago that she had been almost skipping down the corridor, hadn't it? She did have a date for the Yule Ball, after all, and Ron Weasley didn't. The thought caused the corners of her lips to twitch upward. Oh, how his jaw would drop when he saw Viktor and her together! Poor Ron, all alone while she danced the night away with a world-famous Quidditch player, one of the best…well, she couldn't quite remember what position he played, but whatever it was she heard he was quite good at it. Pride bubbled up inside her, and while she knew it was a terribly unattractive emotion, this sort of vanity was unknown to her and she took her chance to revel in it. Her grin grew broader, and she held her head high as she passed a group of girls clustered around a muggle fashion magazine in front of the fireplace. She and Ginny had a few of those stashed away for themselves, and when she confided in the younger girl about her mystery date she had promised to help Hermione get ready for the occasion, claiming to know a potion that would work wonders on her hair. She already had a magnificent dress from being a bridesmaid in her cousin's wedding over the summer, which was good, because on Viktor's arm she was certain to attract loads of attention. Almost every girl in the school, Hogwarts pupils and guests alike, would love to be in her high-heeled shoes on the night of the Ball.
But, it was with a sighing sense of realization that she couldn't keep at bay any longer, she knew was probably the only one who didn't.
No, no matter how she tried play him up in her mind, the honest truth of the matter was that she simply had no romantic interest in Viktor Krum. He certainly was a nice young man, but there was no fooling her subconscious into thinking that there was anything deeper than friendship in her feelings for him. It knew that there was only one boy she wanted to attend the ball with, one who, until now, evidently had never even seen her as real, live girl. She had taken her time giving Viktor an answer, hoping that maybe…but no, given the nature of R-, err, his question today, she was glad she hadn't waited any longer on him to come to his senses. It wouldn't be worth it, to go as someone's last-resort guest. She would have poured herself into getting and ready and he wouldn't have noticed. She would have spent the night standing awkwardly between Harry and him while they filled their stomachs with punch and sweets and made fun of the people who were actually enjoying themselves. She would have stared wistfully out at the dance floor while other girls were twirled about in dizzying delight, but he never would have asked her to dance.
Viktor was a good dancer. Viktor would surely compliment her on her outfit. And Viktor would enjoy her company and make sure she had a good time.
She would have a good time, in spite of Ron Weasley. She would be a girl, and wear ruffles and do her hair and wear make-up and dance and giggle and…
And maybe he would notice.
Hermione didn't let the thought get her down this time. After all, living well was the best revenge.
YAY, she didn't even cry this time! Got pretty down in the dumps, it's true, but no actual tears!
